but shot a dizzying spasm to her toes.
Lord Ashworth caught her stare. “Faith, Vivian…”
He bent forward, pressing her further into the mattress, trapping her with his kiss. His lips nibbled at her mouth, set free any restraint she had left. Vivian opened herself to his invasion, tasted the desire on his tongue. An unbearable pressure climbed inside of her.
She brushed her palm along the hard muscles of his arm, feeling warmth and light sweat on his skin.
Lord Ashworth shifted, leaning his body across her chest, freeing one hand to caress her hair. He lingered there only briefly before his fingers explored her throat. With a gentle tug, he loosened the bow at her neckline. Cool air swept across her shoulder. Wet fire spread from her neck down to her breast. He circled the nipple with his tongue.
Her body came alive and freed her from any lingering fear or revulsion.
Arching her back, Vivian pressed herself into his suckling lips. She squeezed her eyes closed, but even without the view of his lips on her body, moisture swelled between her legs. Somewhere deep inside a pleasurable torture arose, pushing her past decorum and into desperation.
“Please…” she whimpered, her fingers skimming across his strong shoulders and into his thick hair.
Lord Ashworth lifted his head only long enough to scoot his entire body onto the bed. He lay alongside her, one leg entwined with hers, his unyielding erection pressing insistently against her hip.
His palm cupped her other breast, kneading it, massaging it. He flicked her nipple with his thumb, while his tongue did the same on the other side. Vivian threw her head back, her mouth parting with a guttural sigh.
Lord Ashworth’s large hand pushed down the blankets, then glided atop the nightgown, past her stomach to the aching flesh between her legs. He lifted the material, finding the dampness with efficient ease.
Coyness fled. Vivian raised her hips, reaching for something, anything, to assuage the throbbing so deep inside. His fingers danced over the sensitive nub, winding her tighter with each stroke. “Oh Lord, please…”
He captured her lips with his, thrusting his tongue inside as one of his fingers slipped within her folds.
He swallowed her gasp, forced her to ride the wave swelling with each breath she took.
Vivian rocked against his hand. Showers of tingles raced down her legs, up to her nipples. Each flick of his finger pulled her taut. She pointed her toes, arched her back, strained for a release that seemed beyond her grasp.
He left her mouth again and dipped his dark head to her breast. She watched him lap the stiff knot, swirling his tongue over and around the straining peak. Vivian whimpered, moaned, then cried out into the darkness above her.
“Vivian…” his strangled voice accompanied a sudden thrust of his hips. Two fingers plunged deep inside.
She broke.
Not pain. Ecstasy.
Waves of pleasure crashed upon themselves, rippled outward from her center. Her hips rose from the bed, lunging into the air, deepening his stroke.
Vivian turned her head to the pillow and attempted to muffle her cries against the fabric. But the clamor from her throat didn’t fade away until the last surge receded.
She turned to Lord Ashworth, but he leaped up from the bed with her next heartbeat.
“What…what is it?”
He had that same look as before, the horrified eyes, the blanched skin. One would think he saw a terrifying ghost lying before him rather than his false bride. “No, no,” he choked. “Not again!”
He blinked once then backed away from the bed. Before she could call out to him, he was gone from her room with a slam.
Chapter Nine
Vivian was not a virgin.
Ashworth slumped on his bed, his heart raging, his arousal pulsing. Her body accepted his fingers too easily, although he sensed her reaction surprised her. If another man had taken her, he had not given her pleasure.
Passion clearly simmered beneath her cool exterior. A passion which
Lord Ashworth caught her stare. “Faith, Vivian…”
He bent forward, pressing her further into the mattress, trapping her with his kiss. His lips nibbled at her mouth, set free any restraint she had left. Vivian opened herself to his invasion, tasted the desire on his tongue. An unbearable pressure climbed inside of her.
She brushed her palm along the hard muscles of his arm, feeling warmth and light sweat on his skin.
Lord Ashworth shifted, leaning his body across her chest, freeing one hand to caress her hair. He lingered there only briefly before his fingers explored her throat. With a gentle tug, he loosened the bow at her neckline. Cool air swept across her shoulder. Wet fire spread from her neck down to her breast. He circled the nipple with his tongue.
Her body came alive and freed her from any lingering fear or revulsion.
Arching her back, Vivian pressed herself into his suckling lips. She squeezed her eyes closed, but even without the view of his lips on her body, moisture swelled between her legs. Somewhere deep inside a pleasurable torture arose, pushing her past decorum and into desperation.
“Please…” she whimpered, her fingers skimming across his strong shoulders and into his thick hair.
Lord Ashworth lifted his head only long enough to scoot his entire body onto the bed. He lay alongside her, one leg entwined with hers, his unyielding erection pressing insistently against her hip.
His palm cupped her other breast, kneading it, massaging it. He flicked her nipple with his thumb, while his tongue did the same on the other side. Vivian threw her head back, her mouth parting with a guttural sigh.
Lord Ashworth’s large hand pushed down the blankets, then glided atop the nightgown, past her stomach to the aching flesh between her legs. He lifted the material, finding the dampness with efficient ease.
Coyness fled. Vivian raised her hips, reaching for something, anything, to assuage the throbbing so deep inside. His fingers danced over the sensitive nub, winding her tighter with each stroke. “Oh Lord, please…”
He captured her lips with his, thrusting his tongue inside as one of his fingers slipped within her folds.
He swallowed her gasp, forced her to ride the wave swelling with each breath she took.
Vivian rocked against his hand. Showers of tingles raced down her legs, up to her nipples. Each flick of his finger pulled her taut. She pointed her toes, arched her back, strained for a release that seemed beyond her grasp.
He left her mouth again and dipped his dark head to her breast. She watched him lap the stiff knot, swirling his tongue over and around the straining peak. Vivian whimpered, moaned, then cried out into the darkness above her.
“Vivian…” his strangled voice accompanied a sudden thrust of his hips. Two fingers plunged deep inside.
She broke.
Not pain. Ecstasy.
Waves of pleasure crashed upon themselves, rippled outward from her center. Her hips rose from the bed, lunging into the air, deepening his stroke.
Vivian turned her head to the pillow and attempted to muffle her cries against the fabric. But the clamor from her throat didn’t fade away until the last surge receded.
She turned to Lord Ashworth, but he leaped up from the bed with her next heartbeat.
“What…what is it?”
He had that same look as before, the horrified eyes, the blanched skin. One would think he saw a terrifying ghost lying before him rather than his false bride. “No, no,” he choked. “Not again!”
He blinked once then backed away from the bed. Before she could call out to him, he was gone from her room with a slam.
Chapter Nine
Vivian was not a virgin.
Ashworth slumped on his bed, his heart raging, his arousal pulsing. Her body accepted his fingers too easily, although he sensed her reaction surprised her. If another man had taken her, he had not given her pleasure.
Passion clearly simmered beneath her cool exterior. A passion which
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